


It’s All Just A Little Bit Of History Repeating

by lazydazy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death, Discovery, F/M, Fanfiction, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 00:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazydazy/pseuds/lazydazy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a close friend dies Hermione and Severus are forced together and discover things they never realised they knew about their friend and each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It’s All Just A Little Bit Of History Repeating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Devsgma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devsgma/gifts).



> Written for the SS/HG Exchange 2012. Huge thanks to devsgma for the fantastic prompt and to glitterfics for the words of encouragement and the uber-fast beta. Thanks to of_anoesis for setting up the newbie comm., and to everyone that has chatted on it, it has been absolutely fantastic and helped make my first exchange experience great. Also, thanks to the Exchange Mods, your decision to run this again has made my year :D
> 
> Original Prompt: Minerva dies and bequeaths something to Severus and also something to Hermione. Whatever they each get, the other really wants. How do they handle the “exchange?” Did Minerva plan it? There can be other things left to other people, of course.

It had been a long time since the war against Voldemort and there were still times when the grief of those years hit Hermione. This was one of them. The person she had looked up to so much since starting at Hogwarts all those years ago. The person who had been so active in helping with the downfall of Voldemort. The person who had become her mentor and then her friend when she was employed as the Arithmancy Professor after Professor Vector decided to take early retirement and go travelling. The one person she had looked to for advice and support when her friends were too busy or too far away. The person that had been a strong constant in her life for so many years had died earlier that week and, with this grief, all the feelings she had safely locked away came flooding back

Hermione looked away from the spectacular view out of the Astronomy Tower and redirected her gaze down to the grounds. The funeral guests were starting to arrive. Everyone, including Harry and Ron, were coming together on the train which was due to pull into the station any minute now. It was time for her to compose herself and go to greet everyone. She checked herself over, making sure that the black, fitted dress she was wearing was smoothed down ok, the black dress robes were hanging correctly and her black, high heeled court shoes were presentable, before heading down the stairs and out onto the grounds.

The funeral was taking place by Dumbledore’s tomb. It seemed only fitting that someone who had had similar effect on the people of the school had a funeral there, befitting her stance as a Professor and then as Headmistress. She was to be buried near her home town in the Scottish Highlands which she had loved so much; first, though, they were going to honour and celebrate her life with a funeral followed by a ball at Hogwarts. 

She had died near to the end of the second term so the funeral was being held before all the children went home and they were currently all making their way to the seats set out across the lawn. There was space at the front for family, friends and dignitaries, including all the teachers, so this is where Hermione was heading before she heard someone calling her name. Turning around she saw Harry, Ginny, Ron and Luna heading towards her.

“Hermione!” Harry called again and she changed direction to meet the group half way.

Harry kissed her on the cheek and then enveloped her in a hug. “It’s so good to see you. I just wish it could be under better circumstances.”

“You too, Harry,” Hermione replied with a sad smile. She then greeted the rest of the group with hugs and kisses on the cheek. 

“Come on, it’s nearly time for it to start, we should take our seats. There will be plenty of time to catch up afterwards. Apparently Minerva didn’t want us to be maudlin when she died, she wanted us to celebrate and how better to do so with a Dumbledore style ball?” she asked with a small chuckle.

The party all laughed quietly, nodding or murmuring their agreement and they headed over to the seating area to take their places, carefully trying to ignore the stares and whispers that followed them as they went. Hermione always thought that this behaviour was due to Harry Potter being there, but really, it was because the Golden Trio was back together again and that was quite a rare sight these days.

“Neville!” Luna exclaimed with a smile as she hugged and kissed the bumbling Herbology Professor.  
“It’s really good to see you, Luna,” Neville replied blushing. He then led her to a seat next to his and they sat together quietly exchanging their news as they waited for the rest of the congregation to be seated.

Ginny and Hermione exchanged knowing looks and took their seats together, with Harry sitting next to Ginny and Ron sitting next to Harry. It didn’t take long for the rest of the staff, family and dignitaries to take their seats and the chatter between the friends quieted down as they all reflected on the difference Minerva McGonagall had made on their lives.

Pomona Sprout had been asked to perform the funeral rites, being Minerva’s oldest and dearest friend, and once the children had finished taking their seats she stood up at the front, before Dumbledore’s tomb, and raised her hands for silence. Using the _sonorous_ charm she then requested that everyone stand, her voice echoing across the grounds and giving the cue to the coffin bearers to begin their long, slow walk up to the podium.

The procession was being led by Professor Flitwick with Professors Snape, Slughorn, Hagrid, Hooch, Sinistra and Madam Pomfrey carrying the coffin in true muggle style following Minerva’s strict instructions. The congregation all stood as the coffin approached, passed by and was gently settled onto the podium built specially for this occasion. The procession then took their places and Pomona began her eulogy.

__

“Minerva Isobel McGonagall was an excellent Headmistress to this school. She was an outstanding Professor and a key member of The Order of the Phoenix both when it was first set up and when it was restarted. She played an important role in the defeat of the dark wizard, Voldemort and she was a figurehead, mentor and guide to many. Most of all, Minerva was a very dear friend...”

Pomona paused to wipe away a tear and take a deep breath to compose herself before continuing.

__

“All of us, gathered here today, will have fond memories of Minerva. Whether as a friend, mentor or teacher. It is those memories that we must keep hold of and cherish and it is those memories that Minerva will want us to remember her by. For that reason, she has specifically chosen her favourite poem to be read out and requested that Professor Snape read it.”

Snape stood up and made his way to the spot in front of the coffin that Pomona had just vacated. His face was thunderous. He had, his entire life, held Minerva McGonagall in high esteem but he was pretty sure that she had done this on purpose. Clearing his throat and casting _sonorous_ he began.

__

“`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves  
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:  
All mimsy were the borogoves,  
And the mome raths outgrabe.” 

The glare he gave the sniggering first years was enough to quash the giggles immediately, even if it didn’t stop the brave ones from smirking. After a short pause he continued.

__

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!  
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!  
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun  
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:  
Long time the manxome foe he sought --  
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,  
And stood awhile in thought. 

‘If there’s one thing I never thought I’d see or hear,’ thought Hermione, ‘it’s Severus Snape reciting Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky!’

__

And, as in uffish thought he stood,  
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,  
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,  
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through  
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!  
He left it dead, and with its head  
He went galumphing back.” 

‘He does have the voice to read it though,’ Hermione mused to herself even as she suppressed a giggle that was threatening to escape as if she were an eleven year old first year again.

__

"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?  
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!  
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'  
He chortled in his joy.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves  
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;  
All mimsy were the borogoves,  
And the mome raths outgrabe.” 

As he finished his recital, Snape glared at almost each individual in the audience as if daring them to ever mention this had actually happened, then returned to his seat. He was pretty sure the whole exercise had been down to Slytherin winning the Quidditch Cup last year and Minerva using this as her way of getting revenge. As much as they had become friends of a sort over the years following the defeat of Voldemort, they had kept up a healthy quarrel and competition between them due to their respective houses.

Professor Sprout had been deeply touched by the reading, it being the first muggle book she had ever seen. She had questioned a young Minerva about what she had been reading and it had formed the start of their firm, long-lasting friendship. Hermione saw that she was in no fit state to continue and, knowing that she would be introducing her next anyway, got up and approached the podium with a gesture to Pomona to keep seated.

_“Professor McGonagall will have touched the lives of everyone here in many different ways. There may be those of you who didn’t like her strictness, it made her hard to like at times but it never made her hard to love. Those that loved Minerva, and there are many of us, loved her warts and all. She was like family to us and no matter what they’ve done or who they are, deep down you always love them._

_Minerva lived a remarkable life and her talent and teachings inspired me greatly. In school her adventurous side was seldom seen but she would often invite me to join her on forays into the Scottish wilderness where she would follow a path simply to see where it led. Her adventurous attitude, her love of a wee dram of whisky, her directness and her witty sense of humour made her a wonderful person to know._

_She always took an interest in the people she met and there were not many that she wouldn’t engage with at any time or place. She had the future of each and every student in her hands and she took the responsibility seriously, wanting only the best for each and every one of us. To Hogwarts, to all the students that have and do walk its halls, to her family and her friends she gave her all and asked for little in return._

_I will miss her perspective and her humour. I will miss the depth and scope of her knowledge and her willingness to share it with me. I will miss Minerva dearly, but I will treasure her memory forever._

_A light which burned with passion and vitality has gone out without so much as a flicker, and all we have left is the precious memory of how brightly it burned and the warmth it gave us.”_

With that, the coffin was surrounded by the coffin bearers and Minerva’s nearest and dearest. A spell was performed in unison which enveloped the coffin and took it to her requested final resting place on Sgurr na Ciste Duibhe, the second of The Five Sisters of Kintail in Lochalsh. The professor’s favourite walking haunt overlooking the Scottish Highlands she grew up and returned to during holidays.

The group then turned and walked back up through the congregation with those seated filing out after them as they passed. They headed to the castle and the Great Hall where it was decked out with a grand feast for them all. Instead of long, rectangular tables leading down the hall with the usual teachers table on the dais at the end, the hall was filled with round tables. Enough to fit the entire school, staff and students, as well as all the visitors. Where the teachers table usually sat, was the equipment for a band which would be entertaining them all once the feast was finished.

Hermione took her seat amongst her old school friends and spent the feast enjoying catching up with them all as they fell into an easy banter of questions, answers, quips and laughter as if they hadn’t been apart at all since school. The wine flowed and the chat was only interrupted every now and then by the appearance of each course, followed by exclamations of delight or dislike depending on which course it was. The feast was made up of traditional Scottish food and the house elves had outdone themselves with it. It was their personal send off to the late headmistress. 

Where the adults were receiving the courses directly to the plates in front of them, the students were given a choice, so the first course of haggis, neeps and tatties was met with a lot of pulled faces from the students and a lot of dares to eat it which filled the hall with chatter and laughter, just as Minerva had wanted it to be. The students ate the alternative more than the haggis, but Hermione tucked in with delight. It was a dish that Minerva had introduced her to and, to her surprise, she’d thoroughly enjoyed it.

The main course was enjoyed by the majority, it being a choice of fillet of venison or beef, which came on a bed of barley risotto with crunchy kale and a whisky and mushroom sauce – which excited the students even more than the fun and games they had had with the haggis. The dessert that followed was a traditional cranachan. This was met with delight from the sweet toothed students and giggles from those that knew that the toasted, crunchy oats scattered across the top of the whipped cream, honey and raspberries had been soaked in whisky prior to being toasted.

Next came the Scottish cheeses with oatcakes, followed by coffee and mints with a nip of whisky for the adults to do a toast to Minerva. By the time the feast was done, Hermione was pleasantly merry and looking forward to a dance. 

The tables were moved aside to clear a space for the dance floor and the band came on. As it was such a special occasion, the prefects had been put in charge of looking after the younger students. This meant that the teachers could entertain the visitors without having to worry too much about duties to the students. They were, of course, still ultimately responsible to them and all were still keeping an eye out. Particularly Professor Snape who had taken to prowling around the hall once the tables had been moved out of the way.

He made the mistake, however, of prowling too close to Professor Sprout. Pomona had recovered somewhat from the breakdown she had had during the funeral, most likely with a little help from the fine wine and Minerva’s favourite whisky, and was taking Minerva’s instructions to enjoy the ball very seriously indeed.

“Now now! Professor Snape, this just won’t do!” She practically yelled at him as he made to sweep past her.

The mistake he made, he realised later on when he had the gift of hindsight, was stopping and making eye contact with her. Pomona took this as her cue to grab hold of him and swing him onto the dance floor.

“Minerva wanted us to enjoy ourselves! Dance and be merry!” 

Snape rather thought that Sprout was being merry enough for the both of them, but he decided against voicing this. Instead he resigned himself to dancing with her and said, “I believe it is supposed to be the male that leads?” whilst raising an eyebrow at the plump little witch.

“Yes, of course!” replied Pomona, delighted that he was allowing himself to be made to dance.

“Don’t you think this is just wonderful?” Pomona continued as Snape skilfully lead her around the dance floor. “I think it’s just what Minerva wanted. Such a lovely feast and to have all her friends and family gathered together like this. It’s like the wedding she never got to have.”

“It’s certainly a large gathering.” Snape conceded whilst carefully looking away as Pomona wiped a tear from her eye.

Pomona continued to gab on about Minerva, the feast, the dance, anything that came into her head with Snape nodding or making non-committal noises every now and then so as not to seem _too_ rude. He had, after all, mellowed out a bit in the years following the Dark Lord’s defeat.

Finally a break came in the music and Snape thought that his dancing would be over. However Pomona had other ideas. 

“You dance ever so well, you dark horse, you! If I’d known this sooner I’d have made you dance well before this, but never mind. I will just have to make up for it now.” Her grip tightened as she made up her mind to keep dancing with him whether he liked it or not.

“Pomona, Filius was asking to see you. He’s over by the punch,” Hermione interrupted, then she turned to Snape offering her arms out for him to dance with her as the music started up again.

Severus took her cordially in her arms and began to dance. Noticing immediately that this partner had better rhythm and ability than his last one, not to mention being tall enough that he no longer had to stoop.

“I thought that you would appreciate rescuing, as it looked like you were getting your ears chewed off,” Hermione told Snape wryly once Pomona was out of earshot. Even though he hadn’t questioned her actions she felt like she ought to explain herself.

“I see,” he replied.

He held her firmly, but gently, in place the pressure of his hand resting on the small of her back telling her where to move and when. They passed the rest of the dance in companionable silence. The closeness of him and the smell of his aftershave pleasing Hermione and making her flush a little. Even though she tried to tell herself it was just the wine and the nip of whisky she had had to drink.

The song came to an end and Hermione smiled up at Snape as they let go of each other.

“If you’re quick, you can escape now!” She fake whispered at him.

“Thank you,” he replied with a twitch of amusement showing in his face. He then turned and left the hall, having deliberately guided them around the dance floor to end up near the teachers exit by the podium.

******

The morning after dawned with groans and sore heads from a lot of the adults and saw a lot of the students turning over and going back to sleep. The train taking them all home for the Easter holidays wasn’t leaving until the afternoon so many of them grasped the opportunity to sleep in with both hands. Hermione completed her morning ablutions as though moving through treacle and was only able to start forming coherent thoughts once she was sat at her place on the teachers table and drinking a heaven sent cup of steaming hot coffee.

“Celebrated Minerva’s life a little too exuberantly?” queried Snape superciliously.

“You, of course, drank nothing and went to bed early like a good little boy,” Hermione snapped back, not in the mood for ‘I told you so’s’. To her surprise, there was a smothered baritone laugh in answer to her response.

“No, Hermione. Merely the ability to hold ones drink and being used to having hardly any sleep helps me to be my normal self this morning.” Snape smirked at Hermione as she stared at him as if she had been confunded.

“Hmmm,” she replied, unable to think of anything more, well, wordy to say, she took another swig of her coffee wondering if she’d woken up into an alternate universe.

Ever since she had taken the position of Arithmancy Professor she had tried to form a friendship with Professor Snape. It had been easy to befriend all the other members of staff. She had been well liked as a student and many of them were interested to hear about her university experiences and the travelling she had done following it (a deal that she had made with Harry and Ron as they thought that she was still working too hard and would only leave her alone to study at university if she promised to take a year out afterwards and join them in their travels). But Professor Snape hadn’t seemed interested. He had spent the little time he was in the staff room sat by the fire apparently not listening to the conversations going on around him whilst he nursed a cup of tea.

He had always talked to Minerva and sometimes talked to the other members of staff, but it had been a few years before he had deigned to talk to Hermione in more than mono-syllabic responses. It had really frustrated her as she had always admired him and had hoped to be able to speak to him about the current works in the latest potions periodical; her love of all things academic continuing long after leaving university. She had this kind of relationship with Minerva and had always thought it would be a good relationship to have with Professor Snape. 

Once she had managed to break through his walls (consistency being the best method of wearing a person down) she had been delighted to see that he was as good, if not better than Minerva at debating over the new research papers and they had begun a tentative friendship. It seemed that it was moving into grounds that were not covered with academia.

The persistent clearing of a throat brought Hermione out of her ruminations. Looking in the direction the noise had come from she was greeted with an impatiently expectant look from Professor Snape.

“Sorry?” she queried having completely missed whether he had said anything or not.

“I said, would you like to accompany me to the Head’s office, it is nearly time for Minerva’s will to be read,” replied Snape, the look on his face turning into a glare because he had had to repeat himself.

“Oh, of course, sorry,” Hermione answered, whilst thinking to herself that she really ought to get her brain in gear this morning.

She quickly finished her coffee, rose from the table and followed Snape out of the Great Hall. They walked together in silence to the Head’s office; Snape’s long, quick stride meaning that Hermione had to walk faster than usual to stay next to him. When they reached the office, there were two spare chairs next to each other and the rest were filled with others that the funeral director, Mr Ellard, had requested be there for the reading. Professor McGonagall had outlived her most immediate family, but there were a couple of cousins and a nephew who outlived her and were present for the reading.

“Ah, good. As we are all here early we will get started,” said Mr Ellard. He then turned to a curtain covering the wall behind him and with a flourish worthy of a diva, pulled it aside.

“Minerva!” Pomona’s gasp of excitement, delight and wonder pretty much covered what everyone else was thinking. 

The headteacher’s portraits didn’t usually appear as close after death as Minerva’s had; Dumbledore’s quick appearance in his portrait had been the exception rather than the rule.

“Good morning, everyone,” replied Minerva as she looked down at them over her small square spectacles and smiled.

“Good morning, Minerva!” Hermione exclaimed. Genuinely happy to see her even if it wasn’t in a corporeal form.

“The silver lining to knowing roughly when your time is up, is being able to plan ahead,” the painting began.

“I wanted to be able to tell you all what you will be receiving from my estate, little that it is. I thought it would be easier to accept actually coming from me rather than from an unknown person. No offense, Mr Ellard.”

“None taken Ma’am,” Mr Ellard replied.

The painted Minerva pulled a piece of paper out of her robes and began to read off it. She started with the formalities that come with all readings of wills and then moved on to her remaining family members. Once the nitty gritty of the handing out of her estate began, her recital was interrupted each time something was bequeathed; but not as much as when she gave her cottage in the Highlands to Hermione Granger and her original writings of Charles Dickens to Severus Snape.

The main culprits for the noise were Hermione and Severus themselves. The family members had no need of the cottage and were happy to have inherited their favourite items to remember her by, as well as a considerable amount of money. Hermione and Severus, however, were arguing with each other and with Minerva as they seemed to have inherited what the other wanted.

“How can you _not_ want to own the _original_ works of Charles Dickens? The actual parchment that he wrote the stories on? Mistakes and all?!”

“How can you _not_ want to own the cottage? In the middle of nowhere in the Scottish Highlands. _Miles_ away from any noisy and inconsiderate children?!”

“Minerva! Please, you must have read the paper wrong, surely?” Pleaded Hermione having always admired the original works whenever she had visited with Minerva during the school holidays.

“I shall look again.” Minerva made a huge show of re-reading her will. “No, I have got them the right way around. Oh, wait, there’s an asterix, let me just look at the bottom and see what it says.” She went to the end of the paperwork and read to herself. Fully aware of what it said already, having written it, but having far too much fun to simply just tell them.

“Here we go. There’s a clause. It states _‘Should Miss Hermione Granger want to sell the aforementioned cottage she must spend two weeks at the cottage with the person interested in buying or exchanging it to make sure it would be going to someone who’d appreciate it.’_ There we are.”

Hermione could have sworn that there was a very Dumbledore-like twinkle in Minerva’s eyes when she finished reading that out. There was no time to question it though, the funeral director took over from that point with all the administrative requirements and Hermione and Severus had to wait their turn to find out what would happen next.

******

It turned out that what happened next was they each received the inheritance Minerva had told them they would be getting. Hermione received the address and keys to the cottage and signed the deeds so that they could be changed to her name, and Severus received documents confirming that the Charles Dickens works were his. The works, however, were still in situ at the cottage. This turned out to not be too much of an issue though, as Severus suggested that, seeing as the cottage was more his ideal place to live than Hermione’s, it made sense for them to spend the Easter holidays there. Hermione would then fulfil the clause in the will stating that she had to ascertain that he was appreciative enough of the cottage to purchase it and they could then do a straight swap. The cottage for the original works.

As neither of them were out to earn any money from Minerva’s death, this deal was agreed upon, bags were packed and they found themselves leaving an empty castle to spend two weeks together in their old friend’s cottage.

Unfortunately, neither of them had seen the cottage in all its lived in glory. When Hermione had visited it before it had been during pre-arranged dates and the state it was in proved that the reason the dates had been pre-arranged was to allow Minerva to hide the mess before she arrived. Apparently, knowing roughly when she was going to die had either left Minerva with too much to organise to tidy up, or it had made her decide that the tidying up thing simply wasn’t a worthwhile way of spending her last remaining days on this plane.

“Well, this is a side of Minerva I never knew,” stated Severus as he and Hermione took in the surroundings.

“It was always full of books and papers and things, but it _never_ looked like this whenever I visited!”

Hermione had opened the front door onto a small hallway that had stairs on the right hand side, two doors on the left hand side and a door straight ahead. The first door on the left led to a cosy living room, the door next to it led to a slightly larger dining room and the door straight ahead led to the kitchen. The hallway had every available floor space taken up by bookcases which weren’t just full to bursting, had actually burst, and a coat rack with so many coats hanging off it you’d be forgiven for thinking a large family inhabited the house.

The stairs had papers and magazines piled on nearly every step against the wall so you could only climb or descend them one at a time. 

Eyeing the stairs and hallway Snape said, “Shall we start with a cup of coffee?”

“Good idea,” Hermione replied nodding.

She couldn’t resist looking into the living room and dining room as she went past them to the kitchen though. It only revealed that where the hallway had looked bad, it was nothing in comparison to the other rooms. The living room basically looked like Minerva had started reading something, put it down and picked something else up continually until the room was covered in piles of books. The dining room wasn’t full of books, it was floor to ceiling filled with glass ornaments, balls of wool, threads and fabrics and, peeking out from amongst piles of patterns, a sewing machine and a sewing box. 

Hermione didn’t dare look under the table cloth to see whether the floor space underneath was filled with things. The state of the room pretty much meant that it would be.

The kitchen was a different matter. Severus had gone past her as she was peering in the two rooms and had lit the fire in the grate and set the kettle to boiling. Although the windowsill did seem to have far more pots of plants than it seemed able to hold, the kitchen itself was clean and tidy. The sides had cooking equipment lining the walls in an orderly manner and the cupboards were stacked neatly. The fridge was empty, but Hermione had thought to bring perishables with them so she busied herself with putting them away whilst Severus made the coffee.

“Well, this is certainly not what I expected,” she said as they sat down at the kitchen table to enjoy their brew.

“You certainly have your work cut out.” Severus smirked into his coffee cup.

“Excuse me?” Hermione exclaimed. “I believe that _you_ wanted the cottage for it being _’Miles away from any noisy and inconsiderate children’_ wasn’t it?”

“Quite right, however, it was bequeathed to _you_ therefore it is up to you to make it habitable for the prospective buyer,” came the snarky reply.

Hermione drained her coffee and glared at him. It wasn’t as good a glare as Severus could give, but she gave it go anyway.

“If I have to make the house habitable for _you_ then the least you can do whilst you’re here is help,” she grumbled at him.

“Very well. If you insist on making your _guest_ work then I shall tidy up the garden.” With that, Severus placed the mugs in the sink and left the kitchen by the back door.

******

Nearly a week had passed and Hermione seriously couldn’t tell the difference. Even with all the work she had done the cottage still seemed to be in the same state it had been when they stepped through the front door. She had started on the two bedrooms. Clearing enough space in the larger one for Severus to be able to use it, and clearing out the smaller one for herself to use. Her bedroom was the only room she had managed to completely clear so far, and Severus’s grumbling about his room meant that she really ought to tackle that one next. So that’s what she decided to do that day.

She got out of bed, showered and dressed and went downstairs to start breakfast only to find Severus already in the kitchen.

“Coffee?” He asked her as she walked through the door.

“Yes, please,” she replied.

He filled a cup from the pot of coffee he had already made and passed it over to her. Hermione felt a jolt of electricity run through her as her fingers brushed against his when she accepted the cup from him. She blushed and busied herself with blowing on the liquid and sipping at it as she tried to calm her heartbeat down and shushed inwardly at the butterflies flying around her stomach. 

“I thought I would tackle the room you are staying in today, if you don’t mind,” she told him once she’d calmed down enough to be able to speak.

“That would be good,” Severus said, clearing his throat and studiously not looking at her.

The rest of breakfast was spent in silence. When they had finished, Hermione collected their plates and cups and washed up whilst Severus headed back out into the garden. The sink was in front of the window and, as she liked to wash up by hand and not by magic, she could watch Severus at work whilst she was washing up.

He was digging up the patch he had managed to clear the day before, to turn the earth before replanting, and it was hard work. He was wearing black trousers that seemed to fit like a glove, and a white shirt that clung to his frame and allowed her to admire his muscles as dug. Hermione realised that she had finished washing up and was simply gawking out the window at him. Shaking herself out of her reverie she tipped away the dirty dish water and dried her hands, then she briskly left the kitchen & headed upstairs, berating herself for acting like a teenager with a crush while at the same time being forced to acknowledge that she’d actually been acting that way for a while now and the close quarters was making it worse. 

On entering the larger bedroom where Severus had been staying for the past week, she saw that he had left all his belongings in a neat pile on the bedside table & his clothes were hung neatly in the side of the wardrobe that she had already cleared. Hermione was sorting through Minerva's things the muggle way to ensure nothing important was missed or thrown out accidentally. Once the belongings were sorted through, she would then use housekeeping spells to clean the area. 

She started with the clothes, checking all pockets, collars & cuffs; you just never knew where things might be hidden. Once the clothes were sorted into bags for recycling & bags for the local charity shops she turned her attention to the large dressing table down one side of the room. 

The top of the dressing table was covered with hair pins and bobbles, hair brushes and makeup and other general paraphernalia associated with a female's beauty regime. This lot was easy to sort out. Pomona has requested that all of it be bagged up and given to her, she would then decide what was worth keeping & what wasn't. That being the case, it didn't take too long for Hermione to bag or all up. As she dropped the bag downstairs by the front door she noticed Severus in the kitchen cleaning up.

"Lunchtime?" she asked as she entered the kitchen & joined him at the sink to wash the dust off her hands.

"I am rather peckish, what's on offer?"

"Well, there's pilchards on toast or corned beef sandwiches. Which would you prefer?" Hermione asked as she started cutting the bread.

"With slices of bread that thick it will have to be corned beef sandwiches," he replied with a smirk as he took the knife out of her hand to cut the bread for her.

Hermione giggled, blushed at their fingers touching again, cleared her throat and proceeded to remove the corned beef from the tin. They continued making lunch together in silence, working together with ease until the food was on the table, coffee prepared and the pair of them were sat down and eating.

"Good choice, if I don't say so myself!" declared Severus as he took another bite of his doorstop sandwich.

"It's a long time since I've had corned beef, I always forget how good it tastes," Hermione replied and they fell into companionable silence again.

Lunch done with, Hermione had washed & Severus had dried, they both went their separate ways again to carry on with the cleanup operation. Both thinking how nice and peaceful it was and how they could get used to this way of life.

The afternoon was filled with more digging for Severus and more de-cluttering for Hermione. That was until she came across a bundle of letters tied together with string and wedged at the back of one of the dressing table drawers. The top letter was addressed to Minerva McGonagall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Curiosity was one of the traits that led Hermione to learning so much and so well. It also played a large part in her untying the string and removing the letter from that first envelope.

__

My Dear Minerva,

I do hope you are well. I am already counting down the hours before we can meet again. The days we spent together climbing the Five Sisters were the best days of my life. I can’t thank my lucky stars enough that they led me to meet you,

You understand me better than anyone I have ever met before and I just had to write and tell you. I look forward to our next meeting, but in the meantime I propose we stay in touch by letter.

Yours Truly,

The signature was smudged and unreadable, making Hermione immediately reach for the next letter to see what that said. Then the next one and the next one and the one after that until eventually she was imagining what Minerva’s responses had been like to make the author of these letters be allowed to call her _’My Dearest Minnie’_ an endearment that had made Hermione snort with laughter when she came across the first letter addressed to Minerva like that.

The dates on the letters started at the beginning of the school year at regular intervals. The first letter after each holiday being more gushing and romantic than others, it being the first after they had to part again. Hermione deduced that in a summer holiday Minerva must have had herself a romance that bloomed throughout their correspondence during school time and was allowed to settle into a relationship. It was funny, then, that she had never known Minerva to have a husband or a boyfriend. 

She giggled to herself as she used that term whilst picturing Minerva at her sternest.

The last letter she came across was different to all the rest.

__

My Dearest Minnie, 

Please know that you will always be in my heart. 

We must do as your parents say. It is an awful thing to cut ties with family and I will not allow you to go through that. Love like the love we share, when felt by a person, can be felt again with another. Your parents are right. I am far too old for you. I would only bring happiness for a short while and then you would have years of mourning my loss. This way, we can be happy knowing that we had a few perfect moments together.

This is not easy to write. I will not come to see you again. I have made arrangements to live elsewhere so when you come home for Christmas I will be gone. Please don’t try to find me. It will only make this harder and cause unnecessary grief to your parents.

I won’t forget you.

Myton.

“She never mentioned it because she lost the love of her life.” Realised Hermione as the sadness of the situation hit her and she shed a tear for her late friend.

******

Severus had finished his work in the garden. The weeds had all been tackled and the plants rescued, the grass cut and the trees trimmed. All the borders were freshly dug and he had spent much of the afternoon sitting on the bench in the garden, enjoying the springtime sun and coming up with ideas of what to plant where. He was definitely going to be able to have a potions garden and, if he had calculated the space right, he would be able to have a vegetable garden too. That would help some with his food and not having to go too much into the nearest town for shopping. There was space for chickens too, so long as he kept the gnomes out.

All the thought of food turned his attention to what time it might be. He wasn’t entirely sure but he might have dozed off for a bit in the sun earlier too. It was starting to come in with a bit of springtime chill so he got up, stretched and packed away the gardening things, making sure to clean them thoroughly before placing them back in the shed. Then he headed inside.

The sun was getting low so he had expected Hermione to be in the kitchen umming and ahhing over what choice they had for dinner. The girl didn’t seem to be able to choose without first checking that he’d like it. He found that rather than being annoyed by this thought, he was actually smiling to himself. 

He was also looking forward to spending an evening on the sofa in front of a small fire to stave off the slight chill of the night time and reading the latest potions journal that his owl had delivered that morning. He knew that even though he was with company, she would leave him be to read it, grunts and all, and not interrupt him until he was ready to talk about it. He often grunted in disgust or made non-committal noises at points he liked, whilst reading. It was a habit born out of spending so much time alone and he had found that reading in the staff room led to being constantly interrupted when he did this. He much preferred being able to read through it all, order his thoughts and then discuss the matter. 

The kitchen was empty when he entered. So was the dining room and sitting room. There being nowhere else for Hermione to be downstairs, he headed upstairs to see where she’d got to. He found her in the room that he was beginning to call his. Sat on the floor, tears running down her cheeks, surrounded by a pile of papers. He cleared his throat to make her aware that he was there. 

“Oh!” she hurriedly wiped at her tears as she tried to compose herself. “Sorry, I completely lost track of time!”

Severus stood there for a moment and then turned around and said, “I’ll make some tea.”

He left her to compose herself and went back to the kitchen, wondering why the sight of her in tears like that had tugged at his heart strings. It just wasn’t him to feel anything but scorn for someone being unable to control their emotions as well as he could. For some reason, seeing Hermione like that had made him want to reach out to her. The strangest thing was the realisation that it wasn’t the first time he’d had that urge around the young woman.

He busied himself with making the tea and starting the cooking, concentrating on the ingredients and what other uses they could have to stop himself from thinking any further. He was starting to realise that he had become very comfortable in her company and he wasn’t sure he was ready to think about that.

Hermione entered the room and set about laying the table. She had straightened herself out and the only sign left of her breakdown were red-rimmed eyes. Rather than hide from the fact that he had seen her in such a vulnerable position, she spent the majority of dinner telling Snape about the letters and how Minerva must have had a forbidden love. 

“Strange that she never mentioned it. Did she ever mention it to you?” she asked.

“We were friends, of a sort, Hermione. It was more a friendship where we competed with our houses and occasionally debated over the latest periodicals. It never went as far as intimate information or chatting over ice-cream like girls.”

Hermione nearly spat her tea when he said that, just the image of Snape eating icecream whilst exchanging details about his love life with Minerva was too much to bear. She looked up as she tried to stifle her laugh, only to see a smirk on Severus’s which made it impossible not to laugh outright. She was pleased when a deep baritone laugh joined hers. The laughter was the medicine she needed to get herself back to normal.

They spent the rest of the evening in the sitting room, Hermione was unable to concentrate on her book; she kept finding herself staring into the flames wondering about the relationship that Minerva had but couldn’t have. Severus was reading his potions journal, but every now and then he caught himself admiring Hermione’s profile which was lit up by the fire.

******

The next day dawned bright and early with the pair following the routine they had fallen into with ease. The garden and the shed being finished, Severus offered to make a start on all the books in the sitting room. They had been given a list of books that were to go to particular book sellers and a list that was to be given to the school. There were a set to go to Pomona and, of course, the Charles Dickens originals to go to Snape, or rather Hermione once the swap took place.

Hermione continued to clear out the bedroom. She had decided to box up the letters and store them in the loft, it being something too personal for her to be able to just throw them out. She figured she could always broach the subject with Pomona at some point to see what she knew and whether she wanted the items. Or whether she knew who this Myton was and if he was still alive. Otherwise it would be a case of broaching the subject with Minerva’s painting and she wasn’t quite sure she could do that.

Once she had finished clearing out the dressing table and the bedside tables she started on the cleaning spells. First she vanished the spiderwebs, then she cleaned the ceiling and the walls. In order to clean the floor she used _wingardium leviosa_ to levitate all the furniture so that the whole floor area could be reached by the cleaning spell. Before she cast that spell, however, she spotted a book that she had missed. Mainly because it was in the dust underneath the bed. She reached under and picked it up, dusting it off before she could read the embossed front which said _’Journal’_. Casting the cleaning spell Hermione set the furniture back in its original place and then sat down on the edge of the bed, turning the book over in her hands.

She knew, in her heart, that this would be the very private thoughts and feelings of one Minerva McGonagall. To her credit, she did spend a long while arguing with herself over whether to read it or not. She felt like it would be wrong to read it, but at the same time she just couldn’t seem to put it down and what harm would it do, it was only words and it wasn’t like she was going to read the whole thing, she’d just look at the last entry.

With her curiosity winning, she opened the journal, flicking through to the last page with writing on it and settling down to read.

******

The holiday was coming to a close and Severus was starting to steel himself for going back to Hogwarts and being inundated with all those children again. It was nice not to have to worry about who was going to try and blow up his lab, himself and their fellow students; he was putting how relaxed he was down to that and the fact that he was in the middle of nowhere with no-one to interrupt him. Well, except Hermione, but he found himself becoming more and more comfortable in her presence. He found that he was beginning to wish not only that he could stay at the cottage, but that she would too.

The sparks of electricity that passed between them were growing in frequency and that night, when it happened again, he didn’t break eye contact with her, wanting to see her reaction. The blush and her inability to look openly at him made his heart jump and butterflies stir in his belly. 

The problem was that he was so much older than her and not exactly easy to get along with; generally liking his own company far more than that of others. Even if she was feeling this deepening attraction too, she deserved to be with someone her own age. He would have to be content with her friendship.

Hermione was struggling with feelings of her own. She got her hopes up when he pinned her with _that_ stare, but then thought that maybe she had just irritated him as he didn’t say anything following it and simply moved away and into the sitting room. 

She followed, taking the journal with her as she did so, wondering whether she would be brave enough to make a move herself. It was more the embarrassment that would follow if she had read him wrong that she was worried about. The last thing she wanted was to lose another friend as intellectually stimulating as he was. She’d already lost Minerva.

As she walked into the sitting room she saw that Severus was seated, but not yet reading anything, and an idea sprang to mind. She wouldn’t approach him verbally herself, she would give him the journal to read, open to the last page. That would show him what she had read earlier that afternoon.

She handed him the journal and, when he looked at her questioningly, nodded at him to read it.

_I went to my lawyers today and amended my will. Every day I see the growing relationship between Severus and Hermione and every day I am reminded of Myton and the life I might have had should we have not listened to my parents. I don’t hate my parents for this. They grew up in a time that dictated what love should be and it wasn’t a young girl with a much older man. Now, though, times are more liberal and love is allowed to be whatever it wants to be. I do feel, though, that my protégée needs a little help in realising her feelings and it wouldn’t surprise me if Severus needs a push in the right direction too._

_That’s why I’ve amended my will. I have always wanted Hermione to have my original works of Charles Dickens, and I know how much pleasure my peaceful cottage would bring to Severus, so by bequeathing each item to the other person, adding a little clause to make sure my plan works, they should have a couple of weeks alone to work out how good for each other they are. Telling them outright wouldn’t work and subtle hints certainly haven’t. Here’s hoping.....”_

Hermione hadn’t sat down whilst Severus was reading the journal entry. On finishing, he got up, crossed the room to where she had been pacing and took her face in her hands. He looked at her for a moment, silently asking permission, a slight nod of her head and he moved in, kissing her as softly and sweetly as she had hoped he would. 


End file.
